


Dual Nature

by Cinnamaldeide



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Friendly Conversations, Friendship, Gen, Revised Version, Season/Series 01, Strangely enough not between Hannibal and Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 05:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/pseuds/Cinnamaldeide
Summary: Hannibal entertains a hypothetical conversation with the Chesapeake Ripper about Will Graham and his morbid fascination with their whole self. Unlike Francis and the Red Dragon, Hannibal’s relationship with his own alter ego isn’t conflictual, rather interested in seeking an adequate accomplice to complement both facets of the same personality.Written for the Toronto Fannibal Fest II, winner in the Fanfiction Pre - T.W.O.T.L. category





	Dual Nature

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t actually present at the convention, so I have to thank [Chronicopheliac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/pseuds/chronicopheliac) and [Obfuscatedheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obfuscatedheart/pseuds/obfuscatedheart) for informing me about this wonderful surprise. Many thanks to [Another_lost_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_lost_one) for having beta read this work, which isn’t especially long but may all the same be included in a book I’m planning to publish ❀

  


Despite considerable efforts, Hannibal couldn’t comprehend Will Graham’s strenuous engagement in the cases concerning the Chesapeake Ripper. His obsession was entirely different from Jack Crawford’s, mostly dictated by his eagerness for a promotion. Similarly passionate, yet paradoxically elevated on a personal level.

With all his might and patience, Hannibal could attempt to ascribe the prodigious profiler’s evidently unhealthy fascination to  _ professional curiosity _ , and his endeavours would still reveal futile, for his mind simply couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that Will, quite honestly and ingenuously, still didn’t find the distinguished doctor more interesting than the beast within.

Modesty aside, Hannibal considered his experience enviable and his wit admirable. Thinking too narrowly had never been a fault of his. “I offer him companionship free of judgement, selfless and genuine. My mind is far more open than most,” Hannibal remarked, piqued, in the intimacy of his thoughts, “especially considering I’ve been sharing it with one of the most feared monsters of our time.”

As was its custom, the Chesapeake Ripper languidly stared at him from its sinister throne of bones and antlers, painted in blood and viscera, surrounded with inhospitable darkness and deafening silence. Hannibal often dwelled on its macabre taste for eerie decorative elements, and sometimes found himself contemplating coherent yet inventive solutions to subtly intertwine their different personalities in an elegant, mildly intimidating ensemble.

“I respect his reluctance to sustain eye contact and his insufferance for conversations involving conventional forms of psychoanalysis, I entertain him with stimulating discussions about moral quandaries and I provide for a reliable source of stability, I improve his nutritional balance–”

“Technically,  _ I  _ do,” it corrected.

“–voluntarily submitting myself to his caustic, rather charming sarcasm and to his stubborn, dense blindness, in front of his own need for a sympathetic ear and a friendly handler.”

In its dormant state, whenever its urgent homicidal hunger was sated between one gruesome manslaughter and another, the Ripper indolently observed Hannibal’s moves from its advantage point, hidden behind his well-tailored suits, always lurking with cunning malice. Mocking the human disguise of its own creation for being so artificial.

“Failing so miserably to allure him with your good manners and misleading eccentricities,” it teased, “that must be frustrating for you.”

Despite its fastidious, condescending tone, the guess was right. Pride had been one of the rare intersections between both of their personalities.

With his conspicuous clothes and convivial attitude, his expert hands and excellent education, his active social involvement and refined tastes, Hannibal provided for an elegant performer to entertain his acquaintances. He wasn’t as elusive as the Chesapeake Ripper would have preferred, his external aspect wasn’t a mere facade.

Hannibal Lecter was so much more, still.

“I fool him, much like anybody else,” Hannibal primly remarked. Will Graham could naively claim his indifference to his growing affection as far as Hannibal was concerned, for all the good it did him. “He’s certainly receptive to my amicable presence and open kindness.”

“He still finds  _ me  _ more interesting.”

Jealousy did terrible things to Hannibal’s composure. Inconvenient as his feelings on the matter were, he couldn’t quite find their situation entirely irksome. His practical sense urged him to discourage Will’s inclination to investigate, rather deflect the profiler’s attention from his alter ego with a distracting camouflage in his own image. For inexplicable reasons, despite his desire to mislead Will, to protect him to some extent, Hannibal hesitated to compromise his progress towards the truth.

“You don’t really want to fool him,” the Chesapeake Ripper said, unpersuaded. “You want to keep him. Finally someone who understands, who seeks instead of avoiding, who admires my work and doesn’t avert his eyes to its quality.” The delight was obvious in its otherwise sardonic mask. “I would keep him as well, I recognize his potential.”

“Potential which you covet,” Hannibal assumed.

His words were met with an arrogant sneer. “You can contempt yourself with your simple-minded apprentice, that insipid woman you never courted, never even valued above her bright smile and dull personality,” it taunted.

“Don’t you insult Alana,” Hannibal admonished, unwilling to endure any affront to an entirely respectable person, whose sole, unfortunate fault lied in lacking the unique qualities to discern her deceitful mentor.

In its patronizing, low tone, the Ripper resumed, “Will strenuously suppresses his capacity for violence. He deads and denies and fears it. I can help him face his power with its due respect. Encourage him. Fulfill his ravenous desire for death with the sight of my tableaux and provide more of the same, with his creations beside mine.” Its eyes glistened at the prospect.

Hannibal swallowed, mouth unexpectedly dry. He sheepishly hoped for such an auspicious outcome.

“You’re an advocate of fine arts and sophisticated intellect, Hannibal, I know how you feel about wasted talent. You long to share me as you would a good wine, a private pleasure for the appropriate audience,” it said. “Will is where our wants meet, the person we both crave, for entirely different reasons. You need a friend, and I a partner. He could be our accomplice, someone capable of accepting us in our entirety, of seeing our grandeur.”

“Of replicating it,” Hannibal agreed.

The Chesapeake Ripper moistened its thin lips, clearly angling for such an opportunity to arise. Hannibal resonated with its aching thirst, smiled at their agreement. His mouth had sharp teeth just like its own.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it’s been more than a month since the TFF II ended, but I still haven’t thanked anyone for having voted for my fanfiction. I have been so incredibly happy, you made me feel appreciated in a way I’ll never be able to express with words.  
> If this was in fact the first time you’ve read this work, I hope you like it as well, which is always my main aim :)  
> [Find me elsewhere](https://cinnamaldeide.carrd.co). [Post on Twitter](https://twitter.com/cinnamaldeide/status/1150734527700094976?s=20).


End file.
